


happily ever after

by setsugekka



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Sex, dumb boys being dumb and in love, i wasnt actually fully conscious writing this, takao's life is suffering, this revolves a skewed time-line sorry if it causes confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setsugekka/pseuds/setsugekka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Shuutoku pair had always been regarded as odd, but Takao likes to believe he's helped balance out Midorima's eccentricities with his own (and maybe, the latter thinks, opened him up in more ways than one).</p>
            </blockquote>





	happily ever after

**Author's Note:**

> credit for the prompts go to 1sentenceorder(@lj). anyways uh it's been a while since i seriously wrote anything, so please forgive any major grammatical errors i may have made! otherwise, happy midotaka day!!

**comfort:** Midorima never uttered a word of mentioning it, or even acknowledging its occurrence; but whenever Takao sent him a message akin to “Sleep well!”, “Goodnight Shin-chan!” or even “See you tomorrow!”, he slept a lot more soundly and awoke with an unprecedented smile the morning after.

 

 **kiss:** The first time it happened had been a complete accident: Midorima tripped, untied shoelaces be damned, hands reaching out for anything to ground him and subsequently toppling over his shorter teammate. Midorima refused to talk to him for an entire week, flustering every time they came into contact (much to Takao's own amusement).

 

 **soft:** There's not much to like about him, he's too cold, is the general response Takao receives when his partner comes up in conversation. He finds that while he agrees to an extent, that maybe it's because he's around him so often that no, you just have to look deep enough to see how much he has to give.

 

 **pain:** Midorima does not recall their first encounter, and does not pretend that he does; what he does remember is the despair he'd inflicted as a part of Teikou and thinks he's finally begun to understand.

 

 **worry:** Looking down at his hands, the brunette flexes his fingers, one by one, a lump in his throat; he wonders when he'll overcome his anxieties, but as his name is called, he manages to will a smile on his face as he stands beside the boy who'd given him a new meaning.

 

 **rain:** On their way home, neither mention the match, nor what occurred in the locker-room after; the two Shuutoku freshmen simply sit in their respective places on the bike and rickshaw, and allow the their tears to be washed away.

 

 **chocolate:** “What is this?” Midorima asks in genuine concern as he looks down at the neatly decorate box in his hands, before glancing back up. Takao fidgets a little now that he isn't holding it himself, trying his best to avert his gaze and replies with a nervous grin, “H-happy white day, Shin-chan!”

 

 **happiness:** He isn't certain he's ever felt the sentiment often, even if he were to look back at his memories; the green-haired teen is reluctant to confess, however, that the rare mornings he gets to wake up with Takao in his arms are some of the happiest moments of his life.

 

 **telephone:** “Stupid Takao.” Midorima mutters under his breath as he slinks into his settee, face and nape practically an even shade of pink as he looks down at his cellphone with equal parts disdain and abashment. Huffing, he presses his ear to the receiver again and hides his face in his hands as Takao's chirpy “I love you!” elicits a deeper shade of red to stain his skin.

 

 **ears:** Sitting facing the back of his chair, Takao tilts his seat and leans forward, face mere inches from his apparently asleep teammate. Upon noticing how distinguishably close his mouth is from the former's, he falters and quickly turns around, face warm as he hides it under his arms. Midorima glances up at the stricken brunette and, bright red himself, can't look away from the ripe red flush that colors Takao's nape to his ears.

 

 **name:** “Kazunari.” He pronounces the syllables fluidly, hesitant as the final vowel falls off his tongue. Glancing down at the smaller youth comfortably stretched out in his lap, Midorima covers his mouth with his hand and quickly looks away as Takao continues dozing, unaware.

 

 **sensual:** The sharp curve of his hips, firm grip of his hands, strong cut of his jaw, and broad planes of his shoulders had never gone unnoticed by the brown-haired youth; however, now that he could watch his green-haired partner unrelentingly, Takao found it all the more difficult to ever fully tear his focus away.

 

 **death:** It is an ever-present truth in their lives, much unseen and generally ignored; as time crawls by, they press the subject only once (Don't forget about me; don't leave me.) and it's the only moment they need.

 

 **sex:** His mouth is warm and damp against his collar, a nice contrast to the sweltering heat prickling at Midorima's flesh that's practically set him on fire from inside-out. Takao hooks long, pale legs over his shoulders, snapping his hips forward a few more times before they're both overwhelmed by the fervor and for brief seconds, their names are called by one another.

 

 **touch:** Looking down at his palm, Takao glances over at Midorima who seems intently enraptured in finishing off his oshiruko drink. He snorts a small laugh, shaking his head, but finds his breath caught in his throat when the taller boy intertwines their hands together with a hint of pink on his cheeks.

 

 **weakness:** He has many, Midorima thinks to himself in an almost petulant tone, but figures he can bear with the shame if it means Takao will stay by his side.

 

 **need:** Takao doubts that Midorima (or rather even, himself) have ever felt their existence were essential to each other; it is only after the passing of months together that they acknowledge the necessity after all.

 

 **hope:** Following months of progression and varying death-threats from a certain Miyaji Kiyoshi, Takao is relieved that his faith in Midorima is a unified one shared by his team and (much to everyone's surprise) is the fealty reciprocated.

 

 **wind:** Sitting out on his steps, the brunette leans back on his hands and lets the crisp Autumn breeze sift through his hair; his face breaks into a grin as he sniffs the air, recognizing the distinct scent of Midorima and runs up to meet him in greeting.

 

 **freedom:** He has his own set of anxieties, most of which consist of the constant paranoia that following through with this relationship may only tie Takao down; Midorima simply looks to the brunette and hopes he's just being ridiculous.

 

 **life:** _It's funny how these things work,_ Takao can't help but think now. _All I'd wanted was to defeat you as you had me, and now... he glances up and snorts at the green-haired youth busy purchasing a bouquet of lilacs for the day. Well, everything's a lot different now, huh?_

 

 **jealousy _:_ ** Midorima can't deny the foreign pangs of what is apparently jealousy he feels whenever he sees Takao around other people; he is seldom outwardly pleased, however, when the brunette notices and refocuses his attention on him, instead.

 

 **hands:** “… Shin-chan?” Takao curiously questions, looking at the taller boy with a confused expression. “What are you doing?” He's annoyed at first, though used to having most of his inquiries going unanswered, until the mentioned youth glares up at him with the brightest blush Takao's seen him wear in a while. “W-we're dating, aren't we? Isn't this what you wanted?” he replies with a huff, and Takao can't stop the silly grin that plasters itself on him as he squeezes back at the hand holding his.

 

 **taste** : Breath hot against the shell of his ear, Takao grinds down and allows his mouth to fall open as Midorima experimentally moves up against him, before pulling him in tight and invading his mouth with his tongue, devouring both the lingering flavor of oshiruko and his breath with practiced ease.

 

 **devotion** : It hadn't occurred to the brunette before just how fond Midorima was of him until he witnessed the green-haired youth from afar: the frown that tugs at his lips, the callous demeanor and icy disposition. His heart falters a little then, before he silently vows to ensure his partner's ardor does not go without notice.

 

 **forever** : Silver-blue eyes widen, flitting up at the green-haired male primly posed before him and back down at the silver band newly adorning his left hand. Midorima dismisses the lack of response, doesn't complain when he's pulled into an embrace, doesn't mention the sudden damp spot at the nape of his neck – he merely wraps his arms around the brunette as well and relishes in the eternity of the moment.

 

 **blood** : “Ow!” the brunette whines, pulling his finger quickly from the cutting-board and against his mouth in seconds. He grins impishly at Midorima who enters the kitchen in response, but as he begins to chatter away as to how it happened the green-haired male is swift and precise in bringing the cut to his own mouth. That's making my blood rush somewhere else, Shin-chan, Takao's tempted to say, but recalls the knife between them and swallows it down.

 

 **sickness** : Takao coughs heavily into a handful of tissues, bending forward before seizing back against his mountain of pillows and cough-drops. He sighs, though it sounds like a snore because of his sinuses and he almost laughs at how pathetic he sounds to himself until Midorima walks in with a bottle of cough serum in one hand and oshiruko in the other. The brunette spends five seconds to realize what's to come and immediately after passes out, feeling the nausea come back in full force.

 

 **melody** : _“Shin-chan!”_ , the ever-present call rings in his head, chimes in the morning and dimly whispers at night. Breathing out his nose, Midorima looks up at his ceiling wondering when he'd grown attached to it, and allows the thought to pass.

 

 **star** : “What did you wish for, Shin-chan?” the brunette lying beside him asks curiously, and Midorima has to stop himself from clicking his teeth in answer. “Nothing of your concern, idiot.” he huffs, but says and does nothing when Takao leans up and rests his head on his chest.

 

 **home** : Bending over to slip his shoes off at the front door, Midorima looks up with an apologetic expression when he's greeted with Takao in his sleepwear, but can't stop how his lips turn up at the edges as the brunette sleepily walks up to embrace him and yawns in his ear “Welcome back.”

 

 **sacred** : Midorima doesn't remember when it had begun, but Takao had made it somewhat of a habit on nights like these to press reverent kisses to the tips of his fingers, and it was suffice to say that when he reached his taped hand Midorima had to look away to hide the growing blush on his cheeks.

 

 **fear** : The cold sweat that breaks out on his skin and tremors in his stomach serve as testaments of his unspoken trepidation; it's the only way he can really describe it, when his efforts have yet to bear fruition as he continues to watch and follow in the path of someone as important to him as a god.

 

 **thunder** : Pupils dilating as another loud flash in the sky booms, Takao flinches from under his covers and has to keep at bay the threatening sounds stuck in his throat. He's eternally grateful and professes his adoration ten times over when Midorima calls him, tired I know's muffled in his sighs.

 

 **bonds** : Heaving a heavy sigh, brows pinching together in his growing frustration, Midorima wishes he cared just that little bit less so he wouldn't feel inclined in carrying around the ridiculous plush-toy that happened to be Scorpio's lucky item (not that he'd ever tell him, anyway).

 

 **sordid** : “Is this absolutely necessary,” Midorima asks through his teeth, breath involuntarily catching as the brunette's nose manages to brush against the wispy green hairs at the base of his dick. Takao pulls back, one hand still working on him as he crawls up, giving him a wet kiss and it's all it takes to keep him from protesting for the umpteenth time that night.

 

 **poison** : If it had been any other person he definitely still wouldn't be here, Midorima tells himself as he glances up from his textbook and looks over the sleeping brunette before him. Not that he could leave even if he wanted to, now.

 

 **sojourn** : The best way Takao could describe falling in love with Midorima would be almost a mistake: the longer he stayed by his side, the feelings he'd already had towards him had developed into feelings of affection, and subsequently, love.

 

 **nuance** : Although he has come to respect Midorima's frighteningly zealous adherence to Oha-Asa and all things superstitious, Takao doesn't think it makes much of a difference if he just so happens to lose most of their rock-paper-scissor matches.

 

 **smile** : “Ahaha, no way, seriously?” the brunette snickers at a classmate's joke, bringing a hand to wipe a stray tear from his eye. Midorima scoffs, his face set in a scathing look that completely betrays how quick his hand is to snap a picture on his phone of Takao's ebullient smile.

 

 **innocence** : Blinking owlishly at the nearly-identical-except-female Midorima before him, Takao points to himself with a genuinely confused expression. The little girl simply nods her head, and before a just-arrived Midorima can make sense of the situation, he's soon fainting when he hears his younger sister chirp “You must be big brother's first love!”

 

 **quirks** : For all of his complaints and protests, he would never want to be rid of Takao's too-big grin, or his impeccably flawless skin or even his child-like laughs – this much, Midorima can bring himself to concede.

 

 **solitary** : They are a cold and lonely months, the ones Takao finds himself facing alone when Midorima decides to pursue his career as a doctor. He finds they're a lot easier to bear, however, when he chooses to spend them over in America alongside the green-haired male.

 

 **heaven** : Writhing hot and flustered against the bed, hands and feet tangled against the sheets, Takao has to remind himself how to breathe as Midorima works him with a passion that has him screaming faster than he can even feel his climax coming.

 

 **hell** : “Midorima Shintarou,” the brunette sharply enunciates, none of his usual cheerful vigor to be seen. The green-haired youth visibly winces, looking up from his spot on the floor, but is avidly avoiding Takao's gaze when he notices the sheer ire in his eyes. “did you seriously leave me behind with _our_ parents to watch Oha-Asa?!”

 

 **sun** : Maybe it's the way the light shines on him, Takao muses as he pedals at the rickshaw uphill, or how he's physically flattering; either way, he grins almost sheepishly to himself, Midorima's always been lustrous in his eyes.

 

 **moon** : Opaque incandescence filters in from outside forming shapeless figures upon the brunette's pale chest, Midorima traces the patterns with his eyes. He entertains the thought that Takao is much like the crescent, often neglected in light of others around it, moving that bit closer to the smaller youth and treasuring his scent.

 

 **waves** : Sifting around the dirt beneath him, the brunette sinks his toes and wiggles his hands in the moist sand as a slow tide comes in; he suddenly finds himself held up above the ocean, grinning down at Midorima and realizes his body is full of warmth despite the cold water lapping at his feet.

 

 **hair** : Peering an eyelid open, Takao quietly tilts his left wrist and shyly cards his fingers through the satiny strands of emerald present before him; despite the length of time he's known Midorima, he hasn't gotten over the radiant tint of his locks, and doubts he ever will.

 

 **supernova** : “Kazunari.” the older of the two calls out, voice wavering as the smaller male looks up at him _─ I love you. ─_ and breaks out in a warm smile. Midorima finds himself reeling from the abruptly intense fluttering in his chest and hides his face in the crook of the brunette's neck, face warm as the former presses a kiss to his temple in understanding. _(I love you too, Shintarou.)_


End file.
